Author
Topic: Word from the Wise (Read 2451 times)

Maccabeus slapped his palm to his forehead. "Ach! Sorry. I did bring the skin for just that purpose!." He took the skin from about his chest and proferred to the Elder. He simultaneously moved towards the entrance to Whisper's tree.

Ashe took the water skin and drank greedily. As he drank he felt completely renewed and nourished. The overwhelming fatigue swiftly left him and his mental faculties returned. “Oh that feels so good” Ashe proclaimed. “Now, on to other matters. Grr Growl Grr Grr…if you would, stay here and keep the good lady company…it’ll lift her spirits”

Ashe and Maccabeus exited the hidden chamber and walked to the cliff overlooking Threshold. Ashe took in the view as well as a deep breath. “Maccabeus, your time has come. Forces are in motion and you are part of them. Zebulon himself has given us a mission. Through his words as spoken to me, I’ll explain.”

He though for a moment and recited the words in his head once before he spoke.

“The seed is sacred unto us Rare is their divine birthA planting will bring lifeBy the one that proves worth

Archeaon will also seekThe seed as a prizeTwisting its pure makeFor all to realize

The Valley of MistIs the womb of the seedThere it will be foundWith others of greed

The way will be seenBy the one that that can speakWith the leaves abundantHe will strengthen the weak

In a time of great strife Will the seed appearWhen essence is shallowAnd devotion is clear

He of the WolfShall hear the songAnd steward the seedTo where it belongs

Failure in thisAnd the gold will turnAnd you my devotedMust set it to burn”

Ashe finished the poem and looked down at Maccabeus then back at the waning grove. He could hear Istian creeping up towards them in his own subtle way. Ashe was always soothed by the company of his old friend. They endured both good times and bad with each other and were kindred as much as any could be. Istian lowered his great head and Ashe gave him a good scratch behind his ear.

“Maccabeus,” he said “remember the Blood Tear…it grows ever brighter.”

Maccabeus listened intently to Ashe's words. He closed his sapphire eyes so as to not be distracted by the majesty of his surroundings. His head hung, his chin upon his chest.

As soon as Ashe completed the passage, Maccabeus took it up again from its start, burning it more permanently in his core.

In a small way, he was a bit disappointed in the message that was on the surface of the poem. In his wishful way, he had hoped that the missive would have more explicit instructions, and in retrospect he could hear Shankaria's laughter as she mocked him, pointing out that the Divinities did not communicate with mortals like that. Part of proving one's worth to the Divinities was in digesting their words and coaxing the meaning from them. Thoughtfullness was among the top-most requirements for one of true worth.

He reiterated the poem once more. Only a tantilizing, misty direction. But then, what else should have been expected? The Valley of Mists; the standing people themselves, should they deem him worthy, would tell the precise location, and his worth would be spoken to in how he could understand their song.

It was likely this that Vallen had been teaching him, under his consciouness, these past weeks. Since Vallen's planting, Maccabeus's morning chants had been the longest of this life to date. Subconscious knowledge was, after all, the truest knowledge there was.

"There's no opportunity for failure in this." He said, not sure if he spoke aloud. "It's not her time." Then he snorted a bit with a realization: it was HIS time.

He looked up at his new mentor then. "There's much to do. I'll leave tonight, if I can, but I want to take help with me, and that help needs the deepest touch that Mahiya will lay upon a Hammarahn." He looked up to Ashe, hoping his meaning was not lost.

Ashe wished he could go with Maccabeus. He wanted to protect his young aspirant and ensure his safety. Alas, he knew right well that this was a mission granted to Maccabeus and that he had another part to play…whatever that may be. Perhaps he was already reciting his verse in this grand play.

Ashe once again looked out over the river valley of Threshold. He had called many places home, even the many roads he walked. In all of his dwellings Threshold seemed to be the only real fit for him. Here he was surrounded with friends and family that he had known for what seemed like an uncountable number of years. The thought of them being in danger sickened him. Was Whisper, now tainted by the corruption of Zyxu, to be a forecast of what may come to pass to many others?

As he glanced down to the wise little dale gnome he instilled his faith in him to enforce Mahiya’s will and shine forth as a bright agent of Zebulon. If he succeeded in his task it was almost ensured that he would be a target of Zyxu’s minions. Ashe found that he also had to have faith in Zebulon and Mahiya to protect Maccabeus just as surely as Maccabeus would protect them. Unlike Zyxu, Zebulon held a monumental amount of value in his agents. However he understood that Zebulon was not above sacrifice if it meant preserving the balance.

“I think you and Wolf would do well to get a good night’s sleep, Maccabeus.” Ashe stated after his silence. “Time is essential, yes, but not at the expense of your strength to begin and complete your charge. You have much to meditate on and those moments of reflection will be important.” Ashe wondered if Maccabeus was confident in his ability to succeed in this mission. The young druid had such a different perspective than most and very well may not have felt daunted. Regardless, some quiet time to hear Vallen’s wisdom would aid Maccabeus even if he was stable in his ability. “I’m certain that you’ll have some fine company to help in this mercurial task before you.” Ashe professed.

Ashe remembered that he had been away for a goodly amount of time. He’d obviously not heard news of any goings-on in town during his exit. Suddenly curious, Ashe asked, “Did anything happen here during my visit with Nyx’s Champion and your Gnarcheon?”

Maccabeus' brow knotted briefely...apparently the Elder had been away from his ears a moment, he thought. "A-ya." He answered. "As I say, I need you to beg Mahiya's deepest touch for a Hammarahn." He swayed back and forth a bit, seeming to need his feet moving in order for his mind and mouth to work.

"As you've been away," he started, "We found a great mystery buried 'neath the Foot - ancient pathways and burial chambers, some of Wild Land Heroes. The catacomb led us ultimately to the Fortmount where, with Severen's help, we drove out Shadow Riders who had taken up residence there in the absence of the militia."

"Unfortunately, Ragnar lent his very life to that effort, and waits now in repose. I was hoping that we might be able to bring him forth through Mahiya's grace, but aside from Shankaria, I know of only one Torqanic who might be able to do that." His sapphire eyes looked meaningfully through his shaggy brow at Ashe.

Ashe was neither saddened nor joyful upon hearing of Ragnar’s death. It was, after all, part of the great cycle and he felt only that Raganr passing was a part of the whole. Ashe also reached into his intuition and felt that Ragnar’s time may have come before it should have. Things of this nature were always so hard to define with any certainty. Was it part of the grand design that Ragnar die or was it a machination to bring a new sort of consciousness to the being? If by altering the Maenads current state of being was Ashe countering an intent? Ashe had wrestled with these thoughts before. Even though he had come to terms with it long ago he still pondered it as an exercise. Ashe felt that he was a child of Mahiya and an Agent of Zebulon. As such he was charged with making the decision of what was right for the time. If Ashe was, in fact, not meant to alter the state of being of a subject, he would not be in the place to do it or Mahiya would not grant the blessing.

Another though came to the venerable druid. He was glad that Severen, although respectful of death, did not abuse his relationship with Takhisis to perform a similar but far more sinister ritual. Mahiya’s way was not Takhisis’s way. Ashe secretly wondered if Severen was stayed from performing his ritual or if he, out of his own volition, refrained from it. He did not know much of Severen but he did respect his stance and perspective wisdom. He also respected, although in a different way, Severen’s undying fascination with grave and the power that he could extract from it.